He flinched, and his expression softened for just a second before the walls went back up. "Not here, Eli. Please."
The desperation in his voice made me stop. He was more scared than I'd ever seen him.
He went quiet for a long moment. His eyes stayed fixed elsewhere, unfocused. I could see the gears turning as he tried to find an excuse to get himself out of this.
His fingers tugged at his sleeve to cover the marks I already knew were there. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and rough, barely holding together. "I'll be done here in a couple of hours. I'll text you when I get home. You can come by then, and we'll talk." The words weren't angry. Just resigned. Frayed at the edges.
I tried not to show how much relief that simple promise gave me. It wasn't much, but it was more than I'd gotten before. I'd take it.
I meant to leave it there. But then I noticed something else. Just the faintest bit of discolouration peeking above thecollar of his turtleneck. Something dark and out of place. Without thinking, I reached out and tugged the fabric down gently to get a better look.
He jerked back like I'd burned him.
His hand shot up to swat mine away, and his chair scooted back, putting space between us in a second flat. His breath caught in his throat, sharp and audible, and for a moment, the expression on his face cracked wide open. Not just fear or panic. It was something raw and defensive and cornered.
I froze. "Rowan..."
He stared at me across the gap he'd created. Whatever was on his neck, he didn't want me to see it, and he wasn't going to explain it. The look in his eyes all but dared me to try to make him talk. And all at once, I understood.
He wasn't just afraid of Marcus. He was afraid of me seeing the truth.
I took a step back and forced my words to stay gentle. "Okay. I'll wait to hear from you."
He tensed, but he gave a small nod.
I turned and walked to the door, forcing myself not to look back or say anything else. Not to push him when he clearly wasn't ready.
But the second I stepped into the hallway, the calm cracked. My fists curled tight at my sides as I walked. Anger surged under my skin. Not at Rowan, though. I was furious at Marcus for whatever the hell he did to him to leave him this scared.
I didn't know the full story yet. But I would. And when I did, that smug fucker would answer for every bit of it.
Rowan
14
I shut the door behind me and flipped the lock immediately. The click rang loud in the quiet flat, but I didn't care. I needed it locked. I needed a line drawn fast and solid between me and the world outside.
I dropped my bag onto the sofa and headed for the bedroom, yanking the turtleneck over my head as I walked. The fabric caught around my neck for a second, and I had to fight down a flare of panic that came with it. When I finally got it off, I let it drop to the floor and tried to catch my breath.
My neck ached with a dull, lingering kind of pain that never really faded, only pulsed harder when something touched it the wrong way. The collar had been digging in all day – enough to make it feel like I was being strangled all over again. Every time I turned my head, it brushed against the bruises the belt had left behind.
It took everything in me to keep the damn thing on.
I pulled a looser shirt from the drawer and threw it on. The moment it settled over my skin, a shaky sigh left my lungs. Finally, I could breathe again.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and let my shoulders slump. The new shirt barely brushed the bruises, but even that made me wince. I reached up and touched my neck gently, my fingers tracing the worst of it. How the hell was I going to hidethis from Eli?
I already knew the answer. I wasn't.
He saw something today. He wouldn't have reached for my collar if he hadn't. He noticed the marks. Maybe not clearly, but he saw enough. He’d ask about them when he got here.
And I wouldn't be able to lie to him anymore.
That was why I didn't stay at the school after he left. Nothing on my desk couldn't wait, but I told him I had work to finish just to get him to leave. I needed time to figure out what to say when he showed up at my door.
Because once he heard the truth, everything would change.
He'd never say it outright. He wouldn't make a scene. But he'd see me differently. There'd be discomfort in his voice. Distance. That polite kind of silence that hangs between people who don't know how to talk anymore. He'd finally realise how much of a mess I was, and he'd back off. He'd go back to his life in London and pretend this whole situation with Marcus never happened.
